


Purpose

by hibernate



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-03
Updated: 2010-06-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 21:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/91845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hibernate/pseuds/hibernate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dahlia takes care of Cara post-breaking. There's Mord'Sith spooning with gloves off and everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purpose

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [The Great Spooning Meme](http://seriousfic.livejournal.com/383597.html), for [commoncomitatus](http://commoncomitatus.livejournal.com)'s prompt _Dahlia tends to Cara after she's trained with the super agiel of underworld superness_. (Oh, Dahlia, how did you sneak under my skin so quickly?)

It is Dahlia who administers the Breath of Life.

Lord Rahl departs when the training is done, leaving it up to the Mord'Sith to clean up the shamble he's left. He'll be back when Cara has recovered, but for this next stage his presence is not required. As soon as he is gone Dahlia has her Sisters unbuckle the shackles holding Cara's lifeless body up, and then, as soon as she is on the floor, Dahlia is breathing life back into her, their lips brushing in an almost-kiss.

It's been less than a hundred heartbeats since Lord Rahl deemed Cara's training to be complete, finally delivering the last touch of the dark agiel to her heart, sending her to the Underworld. Less than a hundred heartbeats, and Dahlia is skilled with the Breath of Life, yet she is surprised by the magnitude of her relief when Cara's heart starts to beat again under Dahlia's hand and the warmth of Cara's exhale touches Dahlia's lips.

Cara's eyes open half-way, gaze unfocused. There is a flatness to her look that Dahlia has not seen in a long while. The Breath of Life has eased Cara's worst injuries, the bruises on her face already looking faded, but Dahlia knows this process intimately; it will be days before Cara is fully back with her again.

There is a beauty in the breaking, especially of someone so strong. There is pleasure in pain; Dahlia has kissed Cara's bruises before and they have always tasted sweet. Dahlia looks into Cara's eyes and wills herself to remember those times.

"Take her to my room," Dahlia says.

*

It's been a long time since Dahlia washed one of her sisters. She lets the wet cloth move across bruises and cuts, removing blood and sweat and dirt, and it's neither about yielding nor asserting command. It's always different with Cara.

Cara sits on a stool as Dahlia cares for her. The bathhouse would be easier, but Dahlia wants the privacy of her quarters. The others will have to wait to greet Cara back home.

Cara makes no sound or movement even as Dahlia cleans her wounds and lets the cloth move over bruises in all the colors of the rainbow. Even after she is done and the most stubborn grime is gone, Dahlia continues. Finally Cara stops her with a hand on her arm.

"I am clean," she says, and meets Dahlia's eyes for the first time. With her wet hair pulled back, it looks almost like her hair is still long and tied up in a braid. Dahlia frowns at a sudden sting as she breathes in.

"My leathers," Cara continues.

"You should sleep," Dahlia says. "Regain your strength."

Cara tilts her head, and Dahlia smiles for the first time in days, heart jumping. "I had them cleaned for you," she says, as fetches the leather suit from the table across the room.

Cara rises. Her body is tapestry of colors from the blackest bruises to bright red abrasions and faded yellow blemishes. It's beautiful. Dahlia pushes down on the small flare of hesitance that suddenly curl in her chest. Cara has always been the most beautiful thing in Dahlia's life, and injury has only ever enhanced this. It has always made everything brighter and more intense, the way pain does by stripping everything else away.

The leathers slide on slowly by Dahlia's hands, as Cara remains immobile. With every piece of flesh covered by leather, Cara's back becomes a little straighter, even as her legs start to shake from exhaustion. The flatness in her eyes disappear bit by bit too, replaced by a burning that Dahlia knows well, but there's something new there too. No Mord'Sith has ever been broken before with the kind of dark magic Cara has suffered through; a small chill runs down Dahlia's back as she wonders what that may come to mean.

Once the laces are tied, Cara slips away, taking slow, unsteady steps towards the bed and sliding under the covers. Dahlia puts down the gloves and belt that belong to Cara's suit, but then she hesitates. She is not tired, there's no reason for her to stay any longer.

"Dahlia," Cara says.

"Do you need anything?"

"Yes." Cara pauses. "Lie down."

Dahlia moves into the bed next to Cara, even though she does not need rest. Cara's bare hand caress Dahlia's leather-clad chest briefly and Dahlia shudders.

Mord'Sith touch often. Washing each other in the bathhouse. Helping with removing and putting on their leathers. The pleasure flesh can give. Sparring and training. _To push and to concede_.

There is a purpose to every touch.

Cara takes Dahlia's arm and drapes it across her hip as she turns to her side, her back to Dahlia, and Dahlia cannot understand the purpose of this. Cara is too worn to engage in any stimulating activities, and there is no design or hidden intention behind it.

"Closer," Cara says, and Dahlia inches nearer until she's pressed to Cara's back. Cara sighs and closes her eyes. She falls asleep quickly, exhaustion getting the better of her. There is no reason for Dahlia to linger now.

Dahlia removes the glove from the hand that's curled around Cara's warm body.

If at any time her naked hand brushes against Cara's it's entirely accidental.


End file.
